Harry Potter and Jasmine's Magic
by Redumdelta
Summary: This story is a trial what-if about Magic being integral to the soul and is inspired by Moratorium. Also magic is expected to be heavier stuff, similar to the Black Queen series. Fem!Harry Not SLASH but kinda.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, whoever they are. Any reference to any other media series is not meant to be infringement and I make no profit from the following.

* * *

This story is a trial what-if about Magic being integral to the soul and is inspired by Moratorium. Also magic is expected to be heavier stuff, similar to the Black Queen series.

* * *

This is a rewrite. cuz the slytherin thing is just no.

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It was Samhain as He, Lord Voldemort, stalked the streets of the bastardized town of Godric's Hollow. Another year in his domain and still the disgusting _Muggles_ continued to debase the passing of Time and Magic in their gutted traditions that now involved, of all things, costumes of the truly most Majestic and Magical, depraved by their feeble minds. He took delight in subtly threatening a mother and child as they passed, making note to later exact his wrath upon the entire muggle populous.

Normally, he would be leading his followers in a revel as they would indulge in the harvest of the land and the muggles, but not this night. For he had finally received the secret of the Potters' location, given to him by his spy, the worthless rat that it was. Today, he would erase a threat to his greatness, a child prophesied to defeat him. The audacity of such a thing. He was now Immortal, nothing could stand to harm him! And yet it was Severus who had given him the information. Severus was loyal, he understood what he had to gain and lose in his service to Lord Voldemort. And so here he was, looking past the gate towards a cottage whose occupants were preparing to rest. He would ensure this. He laughed coldly to himself as he unlatched the gate and set foot across the wards that designated the boundaries. He felt and heard the panic of the Potter male as he approached the door. With a breath his power forced his will against the entrance, guarded as it was by a number of charms and wards. He felt resistance as Potter attempted to reinforce the magics that guarded his hovel, but he was Lord Voldemort and he would not be denied. With a rush and a snap, he dug at the wards gouging the magic that Potter had employed, crushing the anchors in his exertion. The door was blasted open as he force his way through, feeling the crashing of the magic around him as the defenses popped and fell. He cursed the Potter male for the inconvenience even as the man attempted to rise from the backlash he had suffered, as the woman rushed up the stairs with his target. Potter was a dissenter of his rule and so he felt it quite reasonable that the man should die, if his blood could be a threat. Stepping over the body, he proceeded onwards stopping at what could only be the nursery door, decorated as it was. He tested the defenses and was pleasantly intrigued by the obscurity of the defense used, a configuration that even he had never considered before. Evidently the mudblood girl was truly talented enough to warrant the attention of his talented Potions Master. But even as he attempted to breach it he was rebuffed. He paused. This was blood magic. It was not the kind that He himself had dabbled in, no, but the method-it resembled the enchantments hidden in His castle. This was unexpected. The woman must then be of use. He spoke, to spare he and to convince her to give up the child. The door opened even as the woman whipped around from the child and begged and pleaded of all things. A witch this powerful should never act this weak, but her mind would be useful. So he gave her another chance as he had promised his lieutenant. But she continued to deny him. Finally he saw no point, he could Inferius her and claim her progress then. She died and finally he stood before his fated. He looked upon the child and was struck by the intensity of its eyes and it did not cry but stared back at him. Its eyes were an unbelievable shade of emerald such that he had desired for his colors, they were perfect. He would preserve them later, he mused as he raised his wand and prepared for the final element in truly attaining his immortality. He spoke.

 _Avada Kedavra._

And he watched as the beam struck the child in the center and watched as it settled, and was shocked as he saw it rise from the child bursting from its forehead even as he sought to do _something_ , his eye widened as the beam approached him, his own magic turned against him, his defenses ineffective and he felt fear, and then the most excruciating pain he had felt in a long while, and then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, whoever they are. Any reference to any other media series is not meant to be infringement and I make no profit from the following.

* * *

This story is a trial what-if about Magic being integral to the soul and is inspired by Moratorium. Also magic is expected to be heavier stuff, similar to the Black Queen series.

* * *

I suppose this is redundant but I feel it necessary.

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Harry Potter grew up happy. His mother, the nice lady with red hair was always kind and his father, with messy hair, would always play with him. He could feel their joy and love in the magic of their were family. The dog-man was also family, though the magic less strong. The other doggy was family but different, quieter, more afraid. The Mouse (as he had insisted he was not a rat) was different. Everyone was trying to make him family but something was off. The magic did not join, it simply slid off, as if there was a wall. He could feel it. It would surround and approach the Mouse but then it would fall off and it always started from the left arm. Over time, he could see fractures though he not why. The doggies broke off from the magic, just like the Mouse, but only with each other. They still came to him though, they still loved him.

One day, a Beardman came and he was all white. So white it could not have been real and perhaps that was why he appeared as colorfully as he did, to make the white more real. The magic was sad, disappointed, but it was still bearable.

After the Beardman came, the world changed. It did not flip, it did not die, but it changed and life was different too. Life became muted, the sky wrong and the earth gone, as if it died partway, but it could not have died, else everything would have as well, so it changed. Magic could still tell him though, and he knew that the world was not gone past the fence that bordered his world, for magic still worked and flowed. It was the other way for the others, he felt, that he was gone and not them. Birds no longer showed up and neither did cats nor bunny rabbits. But the family was still there though the quiet Pack came less and less. The Dog continued to play with him and his father and his mother continued to catch them being too silly to swat and so would scold them for that was most feared.

Then one day, the Dog and the Mouse came and the world was changed all over again and days later, the world exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, whoever they are. Any reference to any other media series is not meant to be infringement and I make no profit from the following.

* * *

This story is a trial what-if about Magic being integral to the soul and is inspired by Moratorium. Also magic is expected to be heavier stuff, similar to the Black Queen series.

* * *

The night the world exploded, the world changed once more. Someone else became real. A snake. The oddest thing was that it was a small snake that seemed to grow smaller with each step. Magic radiated from the Snake, breaking the magic protecting Home. Mother and Father were playing with him per the usual bedtime routine with some upsy-daisies and almost storytime, when the Snake entered the world. Mother rushed up the stairs to his bedroom with him in her arms even as father stood then staggered yelling. The door was closed and locked and mother cut her feet for the magic demanded it. And there was a pause. And the voice came, even as the door blew off its hinges, and mother screamed and pleaded with the Snake, and Magic _twisted_ as green light filled the room and mother fell, but the magic came together from her even as the green beam approached Harry.

The light was beautiful and sad all at once. A thing of power that was to be pitied, just like the Snake.

The Snake did not seem to feel it, but something had broken, and Harry felt the pain as the magic of his mother and of the world, and even from the Snake, filled him, and left, and took with it a part of him for that was the price that had to be paid.

All at once, Harry could see the snake, falling, then breaking, and he caught it as it seemed to flee from itself. He saw its pain, and he did what his mother always did for him when it hurt. He embraced it, with as much love as he could. It recoiled, fearful of the ferocity of the love, but Harry had caught the tinier little snake, and it could not leave him. It struggled but even then it was only surrounded all the more as it exposed more of itself to him. It bit and hissed, but it was like the cats that were once real, and Harry knew that it was only lacking his kindness, and so he did his best to sing, as his mother would do for him. And the snake grew quieter as the sound went on until finally all was quiet. And Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** All of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, whoever they are. Any reference to any other media series is not meant to be infringement and I make no profit from the following.

* * *

This story is a trial what-if about Magic being integral to the soul and is inspired by Moratorium. Also magic is expected to be heavier stuff, similar to the Black Queen series.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore FELT the wards fall the moment they did and in that moment, he was both elated and saddened, for he knew better than to hope, by now, that all would end simply with this. He could only seek to do what he must and guide events as best he could. The poor deluded boy was ended for now, but the fallout rendered his interference necessary. He sent a call to Minerva to get Hagrid and requested Poppy to prepare, just in case.

Albus waited with Minerva on Privet Drive as Rubeus brought over young Harry Potter, quiet and grave, brooding over the news that Hagrid had sent: James and Lily were dead, the nursery was destroyed, little Harry was unharmed, and young Sirius Black had lent him his motorcycle. It saddened him even though he had been prepared for the worst; Harry Potter was the last of the Potters. When Hagrid had arrived in young Mr. Black's enchanted vehicle with the child cradled in his arms, Albus took the child, noting the cursed scar on his brow and, pressing his hand to the still raw scar noting the immensity of magic, more than should possibly be held by a single child, and, with the assistance of the Deathstick and 3 drops of blood, placed a binding on the child so that the excess magic would consume itself, sealed off from the rest of the world. By his estimation, the malevolent magic of the Dark Lord Voldemort would be gone in 3 years time.

Gently he placed the Child of Prophecy, swaddled and asleep, into the basket on the doorstep with a letter detailing the reasons for why the child should stay, before stepping back to survey the home once more, finalizing the wards of Number 4, Privet Drive with one drop of blood at the base of each cornered hedge. He then left to join Minerva in apparating back to Hogwarts waving a goodnight to Hagrid. He needed a good strong glass of firewhiskey.


End file.
